


Salute

by Merit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Porn, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve accidentally travels back in time to 1938 where he meets Bucky. Turns out Bucky was keeping a few secrets from Steve. Set between the Avengers and Captain America: The Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salute

Steve woke up with a start. He looked around him quickly. He stopped when he saw a newspaper. It was probably only a day or two old, barely smudged. But it was the date that got his attention. It had been October when he had been attacked, back in the future, the twenty first century but the paper said it was _1938_.

He stood up and walked down the alley to the street entrance. It was Brooklyn, his Brooklyn. Steve swallowed and stared. He even recognized a few faces. There was old Mrs Jezierski, probably shuffling along to a Mass. He wondered if this was even real. If the enemies had captured him and set up an elaborate trap to make him confess Allied secrets. He thought that was happening when he first woke up after being frozen.

But the familiar broad back of Bucky that got his attention, his shadow stretching across the street as the day ended. He was walking down the street, not looking back, not seeing Steve. He would never forget Bucky, he thought. They had never known Bucky in 1938.

Steve started following him without a second thought. He got a few odd stares while he was walking. Steve looked down at himself and tried not to sigh. They probably thought he looked ridiculous with his low slung – to them – trousers and incredibly tight t-shirt. After spending so long in the twenty first century, Steve was now acutely aware of how casual he looked.

Bucky was wearing a suit, one he used to wear when he was trying to impress a dame. His shirt was neatly pressed and his hair slicked back with a slightly obnoxiously pomade. Steve remembered teasing Bucky about the smell, waving his hand in front of his face and gagging dramatically. Bucky had insisted that people liked it. That Betsy Morgan had loved it, said with a dirty grin and a quick wink.

They got closer to the docks and Steve started to not appear that out of the ordinary. Sailors were always dressed more casually than the average person from Brooklyn. He just needed to be covered in a bit more grease and tattoos, Steve thought wryly.

“What are you looking at?” Bucky said and he turned around quickly. He gave Steve a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“Uh, nothing,” Steve says, lying reflexibly. Bucky raised an eyebrow and snorted in disbelief. He scuffed the ground with one shiny boot and held up a fist.

“I have a lot of friends around here,” he said, “You may think we’re sissies but we fight back.” He rolled his shoulders and Steve stared at Bucky. They had never gotten into a real fight. Not with fists. They had always gotten along too well. Bucky had always been so protective of him as well.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Steve said, words tumbling out of him. It felt so good to be in Bucky’s company again. Even if he was acting strange and picking fights. He usually just punched the people Steve fought and told them to fuck off.

“You’re not?” Bucky asked and laughed. “Oh is that why you’re staring?” And he dropped the fist and grinned at Steve. “What were you asking, then?”

“Asking,” Steve said. Bucky looked to side and smiled, sweet and dirty. He was trying to be charming, Steve thought. And he was, Steve thought, then blushed. Steve looked to where Bucky was looking and swallowed. Oh, he thought deliberately.

It was a funny thing, being an old man in the twenty first century. They thought they had invented everything including sex. But people had been having sex for centuries. Steve had ventured to his old neighborhood and had been overwhelmed by the plaid. Everything had been so clean. Steve was now looking up at one of the old gay bars that he figured would have even shocked Stark. Steve had never been inside, not in 1938, but he knew the place. He had sold newspapers on a nearby street and he remembered the ladies who frequented the street often slipping him a sweet. They were called something else these days, but Steve always knew that they were dames.

He hadn’t thought Bucky had been here, either. But Bucky was smiling at him, coy and nasty, like he wanted to show Steve what he could really do with that mouth.

“Can we talk?” Steve asked, voice squeaking like he was just a skinny kid back in Brooklyn again. He cleared his throat, blushing while Bucky smiled slow and sweet.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bucky said, he swung an arm over Steve’s shoulder and squeezed his arm. “Quite the arm you’ve got there. You’re a sailor?”

“Soldier,” Steve said. They were walking to a building and on the outside the rates were advertised by the hour. The man at the counter didn’t even look when Bucky dropped some coins on the counter and just handed them a key.

“They must be feeding you well,” Bucky said. “Didn’t know any of the good men defending us were on leave,” he gave Steve a curious look.

“Just visiting home,” Steve said. Bucky had been five years older when he fell from the train. In 1938, his face was rounder and eyes weren’t shadowed by war. He smelled strongly of a cheap cologne but it reminded Steve on laying Bucky’s bed and laughing at Bucky’s stories. Now that Bucky was leading him into a small but mostly clean room, Steve wondered if he hadn’t switched the names around, if Annie had really been a Tom.

“Hmm?” Buck said, half interestedly. “Don’t remember seeing you around.” He sat on the bed and leaned back, his legs spreading.

Steve licked his lips. “I grew up a lot in the army,” he said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I can see,” Bucky said, leaning back and giving Steve an appreciative look before shrugging off his jacket. Without even thinking of it, Steve took it out of Bucky’s hands and rested it over a chair.

“Don’t want it getting wrinkled,” he said, straightening the fabric. He had almost forgotten how different fabric was back here, home. Everything seemed to be some sort of plastic in the future.

“Aren’t you considerate,” Bucky murmured. Steve heard a creak of the springs and then Bucky was wrapping an arm around his waist. “You don’t want this, don’t you?” He whispered next to Steve’s air, his lips a feather soft impression.

 _Yes_. “Yes,” Steve said, he closed his eyes and leaned back into Bucky’s embrace. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Bucky laughed and it felt so good to hear after not seeing Bucky for so long. He squeezed Steve and then turned him around. He was smiling and looking younger than what Steve remembered but he was _Bucky_. He closed his eyes and kissed him because he had wanted to do this for a _long_ time.

Bucky’s lips were a bit dry but he kissed back with great enthusiasm and a generous application of his tongue. His belt buckle dug into Steve’s stomach but he ignored it and pulled Bucky closer to him. Bucky grunted a bit in surprise and broke away from their kiss.

“You’re a strong one. I like ‘em blond too,” Bucky said, grinning. He loosened his tie and tossed it onto his jacket and then started unbuttoning his shirt. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Bucky had always said if Clark Gable didn’t wear one, he didn’t have to wear one. Steve pointed out that Clark Gable lived in California and probably didn’t need one. Bucky had set his mouth in a firm line and Steve had rolled his eyes, supposing that Bucky was going to have to freeze through winter.

And Steve was basically wearing an undershirt. Luckily the army had knocked out any remaining qualms he had about nudity long ago – the future, Steve thought, that would be the future. Bucky tugged the t-shirt up, fingers sweeping across the skin around Steve’s hips.

“This feels nicer than I thought the army could afford,” Bucky said, sticking his tongue out as he tugged Steve’s t-shirt up. “But I think it would look much nicer if you weren’t wearing anything at all.”

Steve laughed. Because that line was truly terrible and reminded him so much of the Bucky he had known for years. It didn’t stop him from flinging his t-shirt into the corner. He grinned at Bucky as Bucky leaned back and whistled.

“They’re definitely feeding you well,” Bucky said, pressing a hand against his stomach, “You’re more defined than those classical statues,” he said, kneeling. He licked Steve’s nipple as he went down, sucking it gently and Steve groaned, running his hand through Bucky’s sticky hair. He clenched his fingers before wiping his hand on his trousers. They were only clothes. Who cared when he had Bucky in front of him, kneeling and opening up his trousers? “And you’ve got a beautiful cock,” Bucky said, smacking his lips together before wrapping his mouth around Steve and sucking.

It was – so good. Steve bit his lip and let his head roll back until he was staring at the dingy ceiling. Bucky was making wet, slurping sounds and was moaning his approval around Steve’s cock. Steve ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, not caring that it was getting sticky with pomade. “You like it?” He said. He heard Bucky laugh around his cock, which was an _interesting_ sensation.

“Oh yeah,” he said, pulling off Steve’s cock and giving him a saucy wink. “I like sucking your big cock, soldier boy.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh because how could anyone fall for that line? His laugh was cut short when Bucky swallowed him, his hand at the base of Steve’s cock, so that fingers squeezed and rubbed him and lips caressed and sucked him. Steve shuddered before stilling, fingers digging into his trousers, who were already half way down his thighs. Bucky edged them down further until Steve was pressing his short nails into his legs, biting his lips and hoping he wouldn’t come.

He met Bucky’s gaze and the guy knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to Steve and he loved it. Steve closed his eyes and hissed, low and quiet, and came into Bucky’s mouth. As soon as his orgasm ended, he opened his eyes, hot with embarrassment and fading pleasure.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, words tumbling over one another. Bucky grinned and deliberately swallowed and then licked his lips, still wet from saliva and Steve and smacked his lips.

“You tasted good,” he said, voice huskier than before. Steve nodded, eyes on Bucky’s lips. He was so beautiful, Steve thought. He always had been. Then Bucky stood up and kissed him. Steve barely noticed his hands digging into his hair, his fingers splaying possessively on his jaw. Steve was caught up on tasting himself on Bucky’s lips. He felt his dick stir and ground the thought down. He couldn’t exactly explain the Super Soldier Serum to Bucky in 1938.

“Can I – can I,” Steve said, breaking the kiss and gesturing to Bucky’s cock, tenting Bucky’s wool trousers.

“You may,” Bucky said graciously, stepping back and unbuttoning his trousers. “You have a pretty mouth, you know,” he said, eyes growing distant. For a moment Steve wondered if Bucky had recognized him. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t. How could he guess? But Bucky smiled, dark and seductive, and palmed his hard cock. Bucky licked his lips and groaned before releasing his cock with a sigh. “You can, soldier boy,” he said, gesturing to his cock with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He closed his eyes as he knelt down and kissed Bucky’s cock. He placed one hand on Bucky’s thigh before going deeper, taking Bucky’s deeper inside him. He sucked him, feeling Bucky tremble under his hand, feeling his breathing quicken, feeling his heart beat sped up as he started to come apart under Steve’s touch.

Steve opened his eyes. Bucky thrusting into his mouth, light thrusts, almost like he couldn’t control himself. Steve pulled off with a pop and smiled sweetly up at Bucky. “You can,” he said, surprised by the small rasp in his throat. Bucky’s lids lowered. Steve took Bucky into his mouth again. Bucky thrust into his mouth, a short and deliberate motion. Steve kept his mouth open and soon Bucky was thrusting deeper, harder. He leaned on Steve, a hand gripping his shoulder. Bucky’s mouth was wide open when he squeezed his eyes shut and came as he thrust out of Steve’s mouth.

Bucky’s come was a warm streak on his cheek. Steve slowly brought a hand up to his cheek. The come was rapidly cooling. He ran a finger through it, Bucky watching him with heavy lidded eyes and tasted it. Bucky let out an involuntary grunt and then shook his head.

“You’re very pretty like that,” he said, smiling. He walked over to the washstand and grabbed a rag off it and tossed it to Steve. It was damp and got him clean quickly. He tried not to think about what the stains could be. Bucky was getting dressed, running a hand through his hair and pouting dramatically when he saw the damage in the tiny mirror above the washstand.

He felt embarrassed so Steve did up his trousers and retrieved his t-shirt from the corner. Then he watched Bucky. Bucky was sending him little looks as he straightened his tie.

“You look,” Bucky started and then shook his head. “Hope you enjoy your leave,” he said.

“Yeah,” Steve said, staring down at his hands.

“They expect us out within an hour,” Bucky said, tilting his head to the door.

“Oh,” Steve said and nodded. “Bye.” He didn’t move though, just kept watching Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, drawing out the word. “How ‘bout we get a beer? There’s a great bar not far from you. They like pretty soldiers there,” he said, winking.

Bucky left first and Steve watched him. He stood up then, eyes trailing Bucky’s back and he didn’t even notice when his head hit the door frame. He blinked – for a long time.

And then it was the 21st century.

Steve bit his lip till it bled before making his way back to Shield.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for trope_bingo, for the prompt "time travel."
> 
> Inspiration came from reading this: http://thingswithwings.dreamwidth.org/213805.html about Steve's neighbourhood during the 1930's and 40's.
> 
> And technically Clark Gable causing the sale of undershirts to decline has been debunked by Snopes but seemed too fun not to include ^^


End file.
